Page 21 of No Place Left to Hide

Felix walks up behind Jena and wraps his arms around her shoulders. “Is that even an option?”

Claire seems unruffled. She fluffs her hair and grins at her audience. “I could totally come back, but I really like my new school. I canalways come to visit.” She locks eyes with me across the room. “I love dropping in and seeing what everyone is up to. And Brooke is nice enough to open up her fancy vacation house. This won’t be the last you see of me.”

The way she says it, insinuating that all this—the party, my friends, the lake house—is fully accessible to her, makes me want to strangle this poor plastic cup. I force myself to relax and tip my drink toward her before I turn back to the island.

I’ve never felt the urge to flee my own party before. But with my luck, the second I left, she’d start a fight club and someone would call the cops. Or she’d set the place on fire because this house symbolizes everything she doesn’t have anymore. As if that’s somehowmyfault.

Escape isn’t an option. Not when I have to babysit her.

I don’t have to listen to her fan club though. I toss my empty cup in the trash and go off in search of Dylan. Claire’s distracted, so this is the perfect time to find him and pick up where we left off. Maybe it’ll piss her off to see us talking, and she’ll see herself out.

One can dream.

I check the bathrooms, but no Dylan. I quickly check upstairs, and then the front porch. No sign of him. The driveway is amessof cars though. I close the door again and frown. Did he leave? I look at the basket of phones, wondering if I’d recognize his if I looked for it, but then the music abruptly cuts off midsong and my attention snaps back to the party.

A collective groan rings out through the room as the unmistakable drums of “Never Gonna Give You Up” pulse through the speakers. Someone has my phone and used it to Rickroll the party.

I abandon my search for Dylan and root through clusters of people until I spot my phone on an end table in the living room, unlocked, andqueued up to a full Rick Astley playlist. I must have left it unlocked on the island when I got my drink. Rookie move. I glance around for anyone looking especially guilty, or maybe laughing a little too hard at the song choice. Those three sophomores from earlier won’t meet my eye, and they’re suddenly very interested in their shoes. I wait until the short one looks up and level him with a glare that makes him turn his back on me completely.

Pimple-faced idiots.

I change the music back to the playlist I meticulously curated this morning and look for a place to stash my phone where nobody will mess with it again.

Why can’t people leave things alone?

I’m halfway through the library doors, wondering if the Bluetooth will get choppy if I stash it in here, when I notice two people standing on the other side of my dad’s desk, and jerk to a stop.

Dylan and Claire.

My hand flexes around my phone until my knuckles turn white. How in the fuck…? Does she have a Dylan tracker? How did she find him before I did? And how on earth did she extract herself from the press conference in the living room without being followed by a dozen of her cult members?

Claire’s back is to me as she presses against him, looping her thumbs in his jeans. I can’t read his expression at first. It’s a little like awe, maybe a little pained, but definitely not repulsed.

A familiar wave of jealousy consumes me from the inside out.

“We’re barely broken up and you’re already off with Brooke? Are you trying to hurt my feelings?” Claire asks, all quiet and flirty.

Dylan’s face hardens. “I didn’t realize you had feelings to hurt.Youbroke up withme, remember?”

“I know…” I watch her shoulders lift and fall. “Maybe I regret that decision. Maybe…I made a mistake. And maybe I don’t want to see you make a mistake too,” she says, gesturing to my house at large.

BecauseI’mthe mistake.

Water under the bridge, my ass.

Dylan stares at her for a long moment, and when he speaks, it’s so quiet I don’t hear his response. All I can see is his confusion as she attempts to sink her claws back into him.

I turn away before I drag her out of the party by her perfect fucking hair. My head spins with all the things I wish I was allowed to do right now.

But…Goodwins don’t brawl.

We do, however, get even.

Six

Now

Something else happened at that party,” Brandon screams, fighting against an increasing number of classmates trying to pull him through the gate. “There’s no way she’d go near that water!”

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